I didn’t take a lot of pictures while pregnant. Antenatal depression (APD) will do that to you.

Unfortunately it isn’t common knowledge (or at least it wasn’t for me) that depression can happen before actually giving birth. All I knew at the time was that depression could hit you after.

You see, I didn’t do much research going into it. Because a lot of my life, I’ve lived being very naive and overly trusting (my therapist would call it me being open and flexible) of situations and people and just generally hoping for the best. A going with the flow kinda girl. So this journey wasn’t anything different for me. I inherently knew things would be ok even though I clearly had no idea of what was to come. When the symptoms hit and continued worsening, I was not prepared. And quite frankly scared.

Society tells you, ‘this is the happiest time of your life! New life is growing inside you. What a blessing!’ A blessing was not what it felt like. And because no one was really speaking about it before, you inherently feel like there’s something wrong with you for feeling like this and even worse, that you’re not meant to become a mother. I talk a little about it here.

The deepening darkness takes you by surprise. One day you’re working, going about mundane business as usual, and the next, you’re lying in bed with the curtains drawn, no appetite, not wanting to see or speak to anyone and your insides empty from throwing up whilst simultaneously hungry for something to eat. It literally felt like my world was ending as I knew it. The emptiness, despair and confusion I felt during this particular period was wild (and not in a good way).

I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

This was the last photo I took of myself before falling ill. I had left work early that day (and never returned) because the symptoms had started & I didn’t know it then but I was in for one hell of a ride. And the fact that’s its blurry is kinda synonymous of the months to come…a lot of it was a blur!

I fell pregnant at the height of the pandemic when everything was shutting down. So support was only via phone. I don’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse. It could have been a blessing because on one hand, I absolutely did not want to talk to or see anyone. And it could have been a curse, because on some level it would have been really nice to have that physical support, even though I didn’t want it. To know that someone’s there to talk to and cry with when you need. To have friends & family come over and reassure you that what you’re going through, and the feelings you’re feeling are ok.

And because I fell pregnant when the world shut down, my mom couldn’t be with me. Something I will never be able to get back again. To have the person who carried you and nurtured you to be there to give you that support? Maybe in another life.

I felt horrible for feeling the way I did. Why wasn’t I happy? Why was I filled with regret? Why could I not get out of bed? Doubt plagued those first few weeks & I questioned whether I was doing the right thing. Questions like ‘would I be a good mother?’, ‘How will I take care of a whole child?’, ‘Am I even capable of taking care of another human being?’ & ‘how will I protect her from people who want to hurt her?’ How selfish to want to bring a child into this world when you yourself haven’t even figured out and worked on your traumas, fears and destructive patterns, your financial & emotional stability or figured out what you want in life. Then thinking how ungrateful you are for going through all of this (I got pregnant via insemination) and not be happy? There are people out there who would die to be in your position and you don’t appreciate the luck you have. Self loathing was at an all time high.

The magnitude of your decision begins to hit you and you’re left dilapidated from all the questions. It took me such a long time to forgive myself for feeling this way because what I failed to realise was that I was not alone. This was and has happened to women for centuries and it’s only now we are making sense of it.

I ask myself if it would have helped if I had known that depression was prevalent in our family during and after pregnancy. Maybe, maybe not. It sure would have helped me prepare myself better mentally for the feelings that would show up. But in hindsight it probably wouldn’t have because I could barely speak to anyone without breaking down crying. That’s the thing with what ifs and looking back at the past and asking yourself whether you would have done things differently. It just keeps you in a cycle of regret, shame and guilt for not having known better. But I digress…

I remember one day lying in bed and being so sick I decided I had to get up and try and see a doctor to find out what they could do to help. The strength it took me to actually get out of bed was colossal (at least it felt that way at the time). I literally had to peel myself off the sheets and crawl into the shower because I had had enough of feeling like my world was ending. So I showered (a seemingly simple task that took every ounce of my remaining energy), changed and called a taxi. I had to override the urge to just crawl back into bed and sleep. When I finally made my way downstairs and into the taxi I gave a little sign of relief. The taxi dropped me off at a doctor nearby and as I waited in the waiting room, I felt a loneliness I hadn’t felt before. Another thing that becomes apparent when you’re pregnant and dealing with APD. No one can understand exactly how you feel unless they’ve been there themselves. And even then, no two situations are ever alike.

When I was finally called into the doctors office I told her I was at least a month pregnant and feeling the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire life. By this time, I had lost around 6 kgs which was a lot for my already slim frame. She looked at me and said ‘There’s not much I can help you with but what I can tell you is that this is normal. And it shall pass Your body is growing a little human being and it’s doing what it can to make that happen.’ She then proceeded to tell me she had morning sickness for almost all of her pregnancy but the joy of seeing her son at the end overrode everything she had gone through. I remember bursting into tears because that wasn’t what I wanted or needed to hear. ‘FIX THIS!!!’ I felt myself yell internally but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

As I was in the taxi back home I cried for a second time. I cried because her seemingly encouraging advice left me feeling even more hopeless. There was no ‘quick fix’. No pill you could take to ease the symptoms, nowhere you could go to ‘get help’, you just had to wait it out. And how the fuck was I going to do that? The advice felt like a punch to my already empty gut because ‘how long would that be?’ Was I going to be feeling this way for the next 8 months? And honestly, I thought to myself, would I survive?

I did survive. Albeit after many tears, lots of movies and series watched in bed. Lots of back and forth messaging with family and friends (because as I mentioned, talking always ended up in me bursting into tears), and lots of just trying to allow myself to go through it as best as I could.

I remember one day scrolling through IG months later and stumbled upon this one particular post by Birth Trauma Specialist midwife Illiyin of mixing.up.motherhood on IG. It finally made sense! It was an ‘AH-HA’ moment that reverberated through my entire being and I could only now make sense of it all. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my heavy heart and months of agonizing about whether I was on a downward spiral to a psychiatric ward were quashed.

The morning sickness and ante-partum symptoms lasted around 3 months. When I finally saw the light coming out at the end of the proverbial tunnel another big life transition was happening -moving to a new city. So I basically had to keep things moving. Looking back I’m surprised how I kept it all together and in one piece cause chile! Pandemic. BOOM. Falling pregnant. BOOM. Depression. BOOM. Moving to a new city. BOOM. As my mother would say ‘We give thanks’ cause I don’t know what else to tell you!

By month 5, my bump was slowly starting to show and I finally ‘felt pregnant’. Because when the bump pops up it feels like ‘Oh damn! I’m really pregnant!’ There was this little human being growing inside of me! It was mind blowing to experience and witness the changes in my body. I finally had cleavage! And that’s also when you start feeling the kicks! Oh the kicks! Baby girl was a kicker and would get her best work in at night when you’re trying to get a good nights sleep! My theme song for when she’d get going was ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ by Carl Douglas!

I started putting back on the weight and my appetite came back with a fury. The hunger that takes over your body at some point is ravenous. You are eating for two after all!

I absolutely craved Ugali & sukuma wiki (traditional dishes from back home in Kenya), full English breakfast, Bak Chor Mee (a Singaporean Chinese bowl of noodles served with meat, homemade sauce, stock/soup and a whole lot of toppings) and basically all the foods I’ve ever eaten that are hard to find in France! I was distraught! Any pregnant person will tell you when the cravings hit, you will do ANYTHING to satiate them! Luckily I was able to find some substitutes which very much did the trick! And thank God for that cause that would have been a whole other story!

Gynecologist visits were a monthly thing. I managed to find one who was nice enough (if you come to France people will tell you dealing with doctors here isn’t the most pleasant of experiences so finding one who is ‘nice enough’ is a win!). I remember the first time I heard baby girls heartbeat during one of our first visits together. No doubt the flood gates opened and I was a sniveling mess for most of the visit. I was going to have a baby! That moment drove it all the more home and as you can imagine all the feelings that come with it once again! The responsibility & the realization. ‘I’m going to be a mother!’

To accompany my gynaecologist visits, I also got to see a mid wife or ‘sage femme’ as it’s called in France which was nice. She was nice. A bit all over the place but nice. I liked her and she was very much needed because what my gynecologist lacked in emotional support, she made up for it so that helped a lot. She was gentle and listened to my worries and asked me questions about my fears. She helped calm my mind & nerves.

The thing with midwives here though is that they do not accompany you into the birthing room when it’s actually time to give birth. My heart sunk when I found out. What they do is help you prepare for labour, teach you all the breathing techniques amongst other things and then send you off, into the unknown & you only hope you’ll remember all the things she told you when you’re actually in the throes of labour. I personally feel we’re being short changed. My thing is, why build this relationship with this person who understands your fears and helps you almost throughout your pregnancy, only to not have them advocate or ‘hold your hand’ when the time comes to bring your child into the world? I don’t get it. I understand they can’t be there for everyone as I know they have other patients to cater to but is there a way to figure this out?

**One of my many visits to see my mid-wife**

It’s around the 7th month mark, when the tiredness really set in. To be honest I was tired throughout because pregnancy can be a lot (growing another human remember)! Most nights I would try to get to sleep at a decent time so I could at least get a good 8 hours in. I would hop (more like waddle) into bed at around 9-10pm but only actually get to sleep at 3! Then as you would imagine, wake up around midday because anything earlier would have put me right back into la-la land. Naps were absolutely fundamental at this point! Once you finally do get to settle down, the impossible task of finding a good position to sleep in is a struggle! Everything aches and nothing is in its original place (did you know that a woman’s organs are pushed all the way up into her rib cage to make room for baby? Wild!)

I had to give myself so much grace when it came to my changing sleeping habits. I had to fight off thoughts and internalised comments which shouted ‘You’re lazy.’ ‘Why aren’t you moving as much as advised?’ ‘You’re sleeping too much’. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself’. The thing with self loathing is that it lies to you and has you believe things about yourself that were never true. But because your mind has tricked you into believing said untruths, you run with it.’ I had to tell myself there was nothing wrong with me for sleeping so much a countless times. I was growing a whole ass human for fucks sake! How dare I shame myself for going through something so natural? My body was doing this amazing thing and the energy it takes to do that is massive. *gives myself a high five and hug.

**At around 6 months pregnant I decided to buy myself a tripod and attempted to take pictures of myself as the months went by for memory sake. Here is one of those said pictures.**

What did help during those moments of doubt and fear was reading about others experiences. A dear friend lent me this book by Erica Chidi called ‘Nurture’ (check it out here) which is ‘A Modern Guide to Pregnancy, Birth, Early Motherhood―and Trusting Yourself and Your Body’.

Although I wasn’t able to read it cover to cover, the parts I did get through were reassuring and helped ease some of the worries I had further along in my pregnancy. I would highly recommend gifting this book to someone you know who’s thinking of getting pregnant or is already pregnant.

Thankfully there’s so much more awareness now about APD and heaps of helpful information available online. It’s becoming more and more common for people to share their stories & remove the stigma behind it. You are not alone!

My hope with sharing my story here today, is that no one ever feels that type of loneliness, and that type of fear that I felt. And I do not want to scare you either. Being pregnant and being able to carry my child to full term was indescribable! I mean can you even fathom, being able to grow a whole ass human with your body, in your body? We’re fucking superheroes for real.

Would I have done things different if I had known what I know now? Definitely. But that’s hindsight. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. But for the sake of preparing someone else so they are better equipped than I was, I would have asked my mother what her experience was like, because more often than not, you may experience the same things she did. It helps to know. I know this may not be possible for everyone to do but if you can, ask.

Also, and I always come back to this, surround yourself with good people. People who will be there for you, offer you words of encouragement, or no words at all. Who will just listen and make sure your mental health is ok. And if you can afford it, please talk to someone. A therapist or someone who can walk you through your feelings. Cause there will be a lot. Some days will be harder than others but knowing you have people to lean on will make it just that little bit easier.

And take those pictures mama. As much as you don’t want to, try. You’ll thank yourself later on for capturing yourself in your most vulnerable, beautiful state.

Writing this brought about a lot of emotions. Taking me back to that place and reliving those hard moments. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. It’s taken a lot to bring myself out it but I’m still here, doing what I can to be the best version of myself to my daughter. And that counts for something.

For anyone reading this who might be going through the same thing, know that you are loved, this is fucking hard, but you will get through it, as hopeless as it may seem now.

I’m here if you ever need to talk. x

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